by BJ Wane
Lillian took a step back and Mitchell moved forward, refusing to let her off the hook yet. “Afraid you won’t measure up? You needn’t be. I don’t compare.” Her shoulders went rigid and back, a telling sign she didn’t back down from a challenge. Good to know.
The taunting smile returned. “I’m not afraid of any man. Just ask my ex.”
“Don’t mention that ass to me,” he warned in a hard tone. The bruises might appear almost gone, but he would always remember his first look at the trauma inflicted upon her delicate features. She took another step in retreat, and he followed. “If that’s the case, then I can only surmise you’re afraid you’ll like it. You didn’t complain or stop me last time.” Mitchell questioned his sanity in needling her but couldn’t seem to stop himself.
Bumping up against the couch, Lillian waved a hand with a shake of her head. “That was foreplay. Is that what you’re suggesting? Because I might go for that.”
Mitchell chuckled, enjoying the back and forth with her. It was something he hadn’t done with a woman since his preference for dominant control took over his sexual encounters about fifteen years ago. He could tell she couldn’t decide whether to be peeved or amused by the suggestion. His chest tightened as he once again found he needed to put her in the same category as the others, even if she wasn’t a submissive.
In a move that caught her unaware, he snatched her hand, sank down onto the couch and yanked her over his knees, taking a chance this would do the trick for both of them. “I’m thinking more along the lines of a disciplinary lesson that will help you remember to keep your promise the next time. Lie still.”
She stuttered on a laugh, whipping her head around to look up at him with bright eyes. “This is ridiculous. A grown woman lying over a man’s lap like a recalcitrant child.”
“I figured you would berate me for being bossy again.” Placing a hand on her butt, he kneaded the soft flesh through her calf-length skirt and watched her eyes darken with arousal as she stiffened. “You’re definitely not a child.” He never claimed to play fair.
Lillian struggled with dual responses to Mitchell’s highhandedness and coaxing touch. It was difficult to discern which was strongest, the hot gush pooling between her legs from that intent gaze and fondling hand, or the need to prove she didn’t go for the dominant, bossy type as she’d claimed. He settled the matter in the next second, while their eyes were still locked and he slid down her thigh to inch up her skirt. The cool air wafting over her exposed legs didn’t temper the heat spreading from her face to her toes.
“I’m not sure this is a good idea.” Before, he’d caught her in a vulnerable state of grieving and she’d assumed that accounted for giving in to his touch so easily. Yet now, the brush of that calloused palm up her bare thigh was enough to stir her arousal to the same feverish pitch, negating that excuse.
“I suggest you decide quickly.” He inched further up her leg and rested his hand at the crease where thigh met the under curve of her buttock, one finger swiping the sensitive skin just under her panties. “You’re not afraid, right?”
Lillian narrowed her eyes at the provocation. Growing up, it had always been she who loved issuing challenges, especially to her more timid sister. There was a heady rush, she was learning, to taking on a dare just to prove a point.
“Like I said, Doc, I don’t fear any man. Do your worst.” Flipping her head back down, she wiggled her hips and held her breath.
“You couldn’t handle my worst, pet,” Mitchell drawled as he lifted his hand and smacked her cheek. The slight sting came and went, leaving behind a warm pulse that curbed her tongue. “But let’s see how you take a little more than the taps I gave you before.”
I’ll show him. I can… “Ow!” Lillian reached around and rubbed her butt where he delivered a spank hard enough to burn. Shoving aside her hand, he caressed the pain away, that soft rub going a long way in defusing her annoyance and dampening her sheath. That’s just not right, she bemoaned as her pussy fluttered in a cream-drenched response.
“My memory hasn’t failed me,” he said as he spanked her again. “Your ass has an enticing bounce and your muscle tone,” he squeezed one globe, “is firm but still soft. I like that.”
Lillian gripped his calf as he lowered her panties and bared her buttocks. “Gee, I’m so glad you approve of my butt.” She had intended sarcasm but her voice wobbled with the lust slowly roiling through her veins when he cupped her naked flesh.
“I would say I’m an ass man but there’s nothing about a woman’s body I don’t like.” He took a moment to trail his hand down one leg and back up the other, his light touch raising goosebumps in its wake and her awareness of her vulnerable display by the time he returned to her cheeks. “Take a breath.”
She bristled at the command and then swore as his hard hand connected with her bare skin with enough force to demonstrate the difference between teasing slaps and a real spanking. Heat blossomed across her buttock, the sting once again sliding away as fast as his hand had landed. If the pain lingered longer, went deeper, she was sure she could have fought off responding to it. It went against everything inside her, everything she’d ever believed about herself and her desire to feel her pussy swell and spasm with the next smack. Heat flooded her sheath along with another gush of cream as the next slap echoed along with her gasp. She wiggled her hips again, this time seeking relief from the increasing waves of throbbing, hot pulses moving up and down her vagina in tune with those rippling across her buttocks.
Mitchell gave her one more smack and then casually roamed over the flesh he had just reddened. “You tempt me to push your limits, Lillian, and that’s not a good idea.”
No, it’s not. She hadn’t been prepared to respond so strongly this time, and that was before he shifted his caressing hand down between her legs and trailed a finger over her slit. This wasn’t like her, to lie docilely over a man’s lap and let him do whatever he wanted, but, damn, she craved that finger moving inside her drenched, aching pussy.
Turning her face up again, she shook her hair out of her eyes. “Told you I wasn’t afraid. Now, don’t I get a reward?” She pressed her pelvis down, against the finger he refused to move again.
Shaking his head, a rueful smile tugged at his lips. “You are so not what I expected.” With his eyes pinned on hers, he thrust inside her.
“Oh, God.” Hiding her face again, Lillian lifted into Mitchell’s next deep stroke, the press of his palm and thumb against her sore cheek igniting the warmth and emphasizing the continuing throbbing. Lillian shivered as he circled her clit and then groaned with his sharp tug on that tender nub. Small contractions convulsed her swollen inner muscles and increased with each, tormenting yank of her clit.
“Now, pet. Come on my finger.”
The order grated but there was no ignoring the erotic demand. A mortifying whimper slipped past her tightened lips as she arched into his now pummeling fingers, squeezing them with her inner muscles as a climax burst in a fanfare of bright sparks and sweat-inducing pleasure. Her head whirled and buzzed as her entire body went up in a blaze of ecstasy. By the time she floated down from the incredible high and realized she was lying over his knees in a quivering, sated heap, her chest heaving as Mitchell calmed her with slow, almost casual strokes inside her, a different kind of mortification took over.
Lillian stiffened, rolled off his lap and got to her feet. Keeping her face averted, she pulled up her panties, grousing, “I told you not to call me pet.” Dropping her skirt, she looked at him as he rose and she noticed he still wore his coat. For some reason, that added to the humiliation of succumbing to him as easily as she imagined the women at his club did.
“I keep forgetting. I’ll try to do better.”
He looked serious, as if he meant it, but she doubted it. “See that you do. I have to get back to work.”
Without arguing, Mitchell strode to the door, tossing over his shoulder, “Monday morning, 9:00 at the clinic.”
After he
shut the door behind him, Lillian mimicked in a mock voice, “Monday morning, 9:00 at the clinic. That man is way too domineering for my tastes.” But as she settled on the seat behind her easel and moaned from the pressure on her still sensitive butt, she couldn’t prevent a grin of satisfaction. “Bossy, yes, but boy, can he deliver.”
“How was your getaway week?”
Mitchell glanced at his friend, Kurt Wilcox, as the rancher took the bar stool next to him. Soft cries following the snap of leather against bare skin resonated down from the loft above them where a few couples were enjoying the BDSM equipment of their private club, The Barn. Behind the bar, others were gyrating to the beat of the music on the dance floor. The smile tugging at the corners of Kurt’s mouth hinted he had heard about his guest and distracted him from watching Master Brett grip his wife’s bare ass under her short skirt as they ground their pelvises together while dancing.
“Wipe that smirk off your face, Wilcox. It went just fine.”
“Yeah, sounds like it. Nothing like a bruised, stranded young woman to liven up your week off work.” Kurt turned serious with a frown. “She wasn’t hurt too bad?”
“Bad enough since her injuries were caused by her ex. At least she walked away and wasn’t making excuses for him. That was a refreshing change from the cases that came into the hospital back home.” And was just one of Lillian’s admirable traits that kept him thinking about her. “Where’s Leslie? I’m surprised you let her out of your sight. Aren’t you still driving her into school every day?”
“After I kept her bound on the fucking swing for an hour, I thought she could use a long soak in the hot tub with Kelsey. And yes, I’m taking her into work despite her arguments every morning. It’s going to take me longer to get over the scare of almost losing her than it has her.” Kurt shifted his black gaze out the back glass sliding door where they could both make out the girls’ heads and bobbing breasts above the rim of the bubbling spa.
Mitchell reached out and squeezed Kurt’s shoulder. Fear of losing that one person who completes you is something he could sympathize with. The heart-shattering pain of those first months following Abbie’s death might have eased into a dull ache after two years, but he would never stop missing her, or what they had together. Lillian’s grief-stricken face as she’d stood in the yellow/orange glow of the blazing fire popped into his head, followed by her bright eyes lit with humor as she wiggled on his lap. His abdomen cramped, as if thinking about Lillian betrayed his wife’s memory.
Gritting his teeth, he replied, “Yeah, I get that,” before changing the subject. “I was proud of your dad for working so hard while you and Leslie spent most of her semester break with her sister in Canada. I never expected him to recover to such a degree following his stroke. His determination, when he finally got around to applying himself, really paid off.”
“I’m proud of him too, but let’s get back to discussing this redhead I’ve heard about. Did you really offer her your garage apartment?”
Mitchell couldn’t fault Kurt for the disbelief coloring his tone. The simple gesture of letting Lillian use the room above the garage was the first time he’d reached out to anyone in the last eight months of living in Willow Springs. He’d met Kurt when he’d become Leland Wilcox’s doctor following the older man’s stroke. Through him, he’d become acquainted with the owners of The Barn and its members. He enjoyed the new friendships and the weekend nights he spent with willing partners who desired dominant sexual control, but had refrained from expanding on any relationship outside the renovated barn’s walls beyond a casual dinner at the diner once in a while.
He’d found it harder to move on by starting over in a new place, with a new, less stressful job than he’d imagined. And then he’d met Lillian, who was the complete opposite of what he always looked for in a suitable sexual partner.
“Yes,” he finally answered, twirling the amber liquor in his glass. “That space has sat empty since I bought the place. It didn’t make sense to let her pay for a much smaller motel room for weeks when she could stay there. Don’t make a big deal out of it,” he warned his friend. “It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like I invited her to move in with me.”
“And yet you haven’t been here the last two weekends and there you sit, disappointing the subs you’ve turned away the last two hours,” Kurt drawled as Grayson, who was bartending, strolled up from behind the mahogany bar top.
Plunking down a cold brew in front of Kurt, the sheriff pinned Mitchell with his gray/green gaze. “We hear enough complaints from them about the dwindling number of uncommitted Doms to see to their needs without you turning them away.”
Last Saturday, after seeing Lillian again, he’d returned home for a quiet night contemplating his stupidity in inviting her to stay on his property after he’d sworn he was glad when Grayson had taken her off his hands. The woman had played havoc with his emotions and his intentions since he’d first clapped eyes on her bruised, defiant face. He didn’t have a reason for turning away the subs that had approached him in the last two hours other than he refused to do a scene with one of them when his mind was on someone else.
“There are still several single members to take care of their needs.” Sipping his whiskey, a strident yelp drew his gaze to the occupied spanking bench on the other side of the bar and the bright red ass trying to shift away from the descending paddle. He recalled Lillian’s cushiony cheeks turning pink under his hand, the way she went from struggling to staying put to lifting for the next swat, and his cock stirred for the first time that night.
He cut his eyes back to his friends. “Besides, the night isn’t over, now is it?”
Kurt held up a placating hand. “Okay, don’t get pissed. On a different note, will you be at Caden’s Friday night for their chili dinner? I know he’s already talked to you about it.”
“Yes, I told him to plan on me.” He smiled at the surprise reflected on both men’s faces. It wasn’t the first time Mitchell had been invited to a social gathering outside of the club by one of its owners or members, but it was the first one he had accepted. He looked forward to attending, which gave him hope he was working his way past mourning and into acceptance. Tossing back the last swallow of his drink, he nodded toward the back doors where Avery joined Leslie and Kelsey as they came in. “I think your subs need your attention more than my personal life does.”
Grayson held out his hand to Avery as she stepped behind the bar, her short, silky sheath clinging to her plump, unfettered breasts and rounded stomach. “They’re more fun to torment, that’s for sure.” With his free hand, he reached up and tweaked a distended nipple before resting his palm on her baby bump.
“Master Mitchell, it’s good to see you again.” Leslie’s blue eyes lit with pleasure as she leaned against Kurt, her damp red camisole and satin boy shorts adhering to her damp curves and drawing his eyes to her long slender legs.
“You too, Leslie. And what’s this?” Mitchell lifted a brow as he picked up the blonde’s left hand and eyed the large diamond adorning her ring finger. “I didn’t know congratulations were in order.” A pang gripped him as he wondered if he’d kept himself so aloof his closest friend hadn’t thought to inform him of his engagement.
“No one did until tonight. Sorry, Mitchell. You arrived after our big announcement and there hasn’t been a chance to bring it up.” Kurt sent Leslie a possessive look of love as he slid a hand down the back of her shorts. Both her and Avery’s faces glowed in pleasure of their Dom’s touch. Mitchell worked to school his features to hide the spasm of emotional pain his friend’s good fortune generated.
Cupping Leslie’s face, he kissed her before holding out his hand to Kurt. “Congratulations.” He tugged on her long hair with a grin. “You’ve reeled in a good one.”
“And Kelsey just accepted Devin and Greg’s proposal,” Avery announced, drawing their attention to the threesome making their way up the stairs to the loft. Devin held the petite sub they shared over his shoulder and
she lifted her dangling, white-haired head to finger wave at them, her ring sparkling from across the space.
“Just so long as it’s not a requirement I didn’t know about, I’m happy for all of you,” Mitchell stated as the memories of his one chance at such happiness played through his head. When the two scenes he’d indulged in with Lillian intruded and kept him from hooking up with anyone before leaving The Barn an hour later, he drove home wondering how he would put her aside like the others with her staying so close.
Salt Lake City
Bryan stood beside Brad’s hospital bed, gazing down at his brother’s pale face and bandaged head. Damn stubborn fool. His hands fisted as he imagined what would have happened if Brad hadn’t finally realized he wasn’t immune to serious injury and gotten help for what turned out to be a slow brain bleed. Just the sound of it scared Bryan all over again. According to the surgeon who performed the operation a few hours ago, his brother would recover but would require a combination of therapy and drug treatment.
Knowing how close he had come to losing his only sibling, Bryan wasn’t in the mood to let the person responsible get by with what she’d done any longer. Brad wouldn’t like it, but he planned to go after Lillian Gillespie and bring her back to face a charge of attempted murder. He had no doubt he could make that charge stick if he got hold of and destroyed the pictures she claimed to have of bruises Brad had put on her. He was sure the woman deserved every one given her jealous behavior and the jeopardy she’d put Brad’s life in. It was a good thing he had caught his brother’s mumbling about the pictures as he’d sat here with him, waiting for Brad to rouse from the anesthesia. Bryan wasn’t happy about the possibility of proof of Brad’s roughness, but wouldn’t let that stop him from seeing her pay for the trauma she’d inflicted on Brad.
Reaching down, he squeezed Brad’s shoulder. “I’ll be back. Trust me to make this right.”
